“You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter. He was ill at ease, though he would not have confessed his disquietude even to himself. " And he looked at the moment as if he had lost all desire to know it. She came in while he was still in the throes, conviction battling with commonsense, his own apprehension. She felt terribly modern, even sporty as the magazines declared you should be.
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